


Eames the Cat

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cat, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Routine, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:06:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur stared down at the purring cat that was Eames circling his feet and couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Why me?’ Arthur/Eames</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eames the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> I have read a few stories with Arthur as a cat, and both Arthur and Eames as cats, but I have never seen a story where Eames is the one who turns into a cat. My imagination, mixed with my desire to write something cute, won out. Also, Eames always struck me as the more affectionate of the two, which makes me certain that he would make an excellent cat (or dog, but I’m more of a cat person haha).

“What are you doing right now, Arthur?”

 

Yusuf’s voice was slightly drowned out by noisy background traffic, and the Point Man strained to hear him over his phone’s speaker. “Research,” he answered nonchalantly, glancing around his brightly-lit apartment. He was a little reluctant to admit he had recently taken on a solo job while the team was spending some time underground until a job blew over. “Why?”

 

“Well...” the Chemist trailed off for a moment, clearly debating over a select choice of words. “I’m standing on the doorstep of your building and I was wondering if you could buzz me in.”

 

“...Why?” he asked again.

 

“Well...” Arthur felt the dread in his stomach growing each time the man paused. “I have a delivery for you.”

 

“I didn’t order anything,” the Point Man retorted quickly, confused and suspicious now. As he waited for Yusuf to explain himself, he began gathering up his folders of information to set aside in a locked drawer of his desk. He also powered down his laptop quickly.

 

“Look Arthur,” he could hear the man huff through the phone, “This thing is really heavy. Could you please buzz me in?”

 

The man sounded like he was in physical pain so Arthur finally relented and buzzed Yusuf in, hanging up the phone after being assured the Chemist would be up in a moment with his surprise package. A minute or so later, as Arthur paced back and forth in front of the door, he heard a sharp knock. When he opened the door, he looked down and blinked. “Yusuf, what is _that_?”

 

“That, Arthur...” Yusuf grunted as he set his ‘delivery’ down on the floor as gently as possible, “is a cat.”

 

“And why did you bring me a cat?” Arthur raised an eyebrow, momentarily pulling his attention from the plastic carrier to the man standing in his doorway.

 

“Well...because it’s Eames,” the Chemist finally admitted in a rush, just as the cat in the carrier began purring loudly.

 

Arthur, not entirely sure whether or not this was a joke, snorted humourlessly and ignored the purring cat carrier. “And why would Eames be a cat?”

 

Yusuf shuffled his feet like a child caught sneaking a cookie from the cookie jar. “He might have been helping me test a new mixture of mine, and I might have gotten the mixture measurements wrong.”

 

This time the cat carrier hissed. “You’re joking, right Yusuf?” Arthur asked, almost pleading. Yusuf guiltily shook his head in the negative. “Well then why did you bring him _here_?” Despite the fact that he and Eames rarely got along well while working on a job – Eames always adamant on flirting with him and Arthur always determined to run in the opposite direction – he couldn’t afford to have Eames – in cat _or_ human form – wandering around his house. The job he had taken was secret and unsafe and a meddling Forger would only complicate things.

 

“I need someone to watch him while I develop a cure,” the Chemist explained, voice desperate. “I can’t have him wandering around my lab and tripping over valuable vials.”

 

“Why not Ariadne?” Arthur suggested hurriedly, unwilling to take a cat-Eames into his home.

 

“I tried,” Yusuf sighed. “He puked a hairball up on her new pair of satin heels,” the man seemed to recite the words, sounding exhausted now. “And before you ask, Dom didn’t want to have him around James and Phillipa, though I’m not sure whether it was the children or Eames he didn’t trust in that potential scenario.”

 

Realizing he had little option beyond chucking Eames out onto the streets to defend himself against the local tom cats, Arthur gave a resigned sigh and knelt down to undo the latches on the cat carrier. Immediately a blur of coloured fur bolted out of the box to circle the apartment before returning with a happy mew. Arthur had returned to standing by this point, and as he watched the cat begin circling his legs while purring loudly, he wondered why this was happening to him.

 

“He’s kind of small, isn’t he?” he questioned curiously, knowing that Eames was not a small man. However, the cat weaving between his legs and giving him a good warning swipe for the comment was thin and sleek; not small enough to be a kitten but not a large adult either. Yusuf shrugged uselessly. “Maybe the transformation followed his mental age,” Arthur suggested in mild amusement, causing Eames to growl before storming away further into the apartment with his tail twitching. “Hey, get back here! I didn’t say you could stay!” The cat didn’t look back.

 

“It’ll only be for a week, Arthur,” Yusuf promised, looking guilty as he slowly slinked backwards into the hallway. “Two tops!”

 

The way Yusuf departed could only be described as running. Arthur, resigned to his fate, gave up and closed the door behind the fleeing Chemist. A second later, he heard the distinct sound of glass shattering on tiled flooring. Cursing, the Point Man abandoned the cat carrier at the door and rushed into his apartment in search of his unwelcome pet. He ended up finding the cat in the kitchen, eying the broken glass on the floor and standing perfectly frozen amongst the rack of other glasses drying from being washed.

 

Arthur hoisted the cat up by the scruff of his neck where he knew it wouldn’t hurt and set him on the ground less than gently. He began gathering up the glass carefully and placing it away in a separate bag to be disposed of, when he noticed the cat begin to circle him again. “If you step on that glass, I will not help you,” he warned the creature in annoyance as he finished collecting the last few slivers of glass with a brush and dustpan. The cat paused mid-step and settled down to clean his paws, as though to confirm they were still alright.

 

Once he was finished with the glass, Arthur returned to his living room and debated what to do. He couldn’t put off the work for his job for the entire time the cat was here, but hopefully his newfound pet would grow bored of following him shortly. Right now though, the cat was following him like he was on a leash, and Arthur couldn’t afford to have him seeing his collected documents. So he settled down to lounge on his couch and flicked on the rarely-used television, only to groan a second later when the cat jumped up and landed on his stomach.

 

Arthur was met with a face full of fur as the cat nosed at him curiously. Whiskers tickled Arthur’s face as he leaned back slightly, only to be caught in a staring contest with very _non_ -catlike eyes. The shape was right, but the colour was a familiarly-breathtaking colour of blue mixed with a few streaks of gray. “It really is you, isn’t it Eames?” he asked as he hesitantly brushed his fingers along soft fur. A second later he was shoving the cat away after Eames had given a happy mew and licked Arthur’s nose. “Ew, I thought only dogs were supposed to do that,” he grumbled as he swiped his sleeve across his face.

 

Eames gave an angry howl at being dislodged and returned to sitting on Arthur’s stomach immediately, glaring down at him as his tail swished back and forth. “You can’t blame me,” Arthur muttered sullenly, “There’s no telling where that tongue has been. And stop looking at me like that.” The cat didn’t move; barely twitched. Feeling awkward, not knowing how to act around the Forger when the man couldn’t exactly respond or be left behind, Arthur began babbling. “You would end up being a calico tabby mix, wouldn’t you?” he eyed that sleek fur critically. “You can’t even choose a colour to stick with, let alone a pattern.”

 

The cat on his stomach, much to his surprise, ducked his head and nudged Arthur’s hand until he began idly carding his fingers through the incredibly soft fur he had just been insulting. Eames immediately began purring and kneading Arthur’s stomach until he lay down, eyes still watching Arthur but sleepily now. “I feel a little odd petting you,” Arthur admitted, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was his imagination when he thought Eames winked at him. “Not to mention holding up a one-sided conversation.” Eames looked unbothered as he yawned and finally allowed his eyes to slide closed.

 

Defeated, Arthur reached with his free hand for the television remote and tried to find the least-biased news channel. He hadn’t even chosen one when Eames suddenly stiffened on top of him, eyes flashing open, and the cat jumped off his stomach to rush away. Arthur barely had time to contemplate what had happened when he heard a mournful string of howls. Curious and, if he was being honest with himself, a little worried, Arthur dragged himself off the couch and followed the pitiful sounds. He found the cat circling the bathroom tile, glancing up at him desperately when Arthur arrived in the doorframe.

 

“Shit, Yusuf didn’t leave anything for you, did he?” Arthur cursed the Chemist. Eames continued to pace and howl, though quieter now. “Alright, I’ll go get supplies,” the Point Man promised, feeling uncomfortable with this whole situation but not wanting a mess on his floor. “Please try to hold it!” he shouted as he picked up his wallet and headed out into the hallway, a final solitary howl following him, which sounded an awful lot like ‘ _hurry_!’

 

Luckily there was a pet shop two blocks away that he knew the location of from his walks to the subway. Arthur picked up a litter box and litter, grabbing the first kinds he saw since he knew next to nothing about cat care. He also picked up a bag of cat food - hoping it would suffice - bowls, and a small bed. “Is that everything today?” the woman at the cash register asked pleasantly as she scanned his items. Arthur was about to say yes, truly he was, but then something caught his attention. “I’ll uh, I’ll take one of each of these,” he mumbled as he grabbed two toys from a nearby shelf. One was a fluffy mouse-shaped toy and the other was a stick with a bundle of feathers hanging from it via string. He felt odd buying Eames toys, but knew the man’s attention span could only get worse in cat form.

 

He arrived back in his apartment in record time and dropped everything but the litter and litter box by the door. Eames was still in the bathroom, glaring at the toilet like it had personally offended him. Arthur set the litter box down in the corner and filled it up quickly, knowing that as much of an awkward situation as this already was, having to clean up Eames’s accidental mess would be even worse. “There, done,” he proclaimed when he was finished, setting the rest of the bag of litter in the cupboard under the skin. Eames nosed at the box curiously before staring up at him, wide-eyed. “Sorry, sorry!” Arthur muttered as he escaped the bathroom as quickly as possible.

 

To distract himself from what had just happened, Arthur busied himself with setting out food and water in the kitchen, and placing the soft cat bed in the living room by the balcony where sun first filtered in during the morning. He reminded himself that as much as he was uncomfortable with this situation, Eames was probably more embarrassed, so Arthur should just try to act as nonchalant as possible.

 

Once the food was placed for Eames, Arthur began working on his own dinner. He was normally in the bad habit of getting so involved with his work that he forgot to eat, especially when he was alone in his apartment without a team of other people mentioning food. But having Eames in the house, even if he was in cat form, had him remembering the way the man would pester him to eat, to make sure he didn’t miss a meal. Like it or not, Eames had at least been helpful in keeping Arthur on a healthy diet.

 

He heard crunching behind him while he was waiting for his pasta to boil and glanced behind him. Eames was munching on his food, which seemed to be adequate enough to satisfy his hunger. Arthur returned to stirring the pasta and sauce, thus turned the wrong direction to notice Eames’s intent before it was too late. One moment there was happy crunching of cat food, and the next Eames was a blur in the air as he hopped up onto the counter. Unfortunately, Eames had overshot himself and skidded across the clean surface towards the stove top.

 

Arthur thanked his quick reflexes as he dropped his large wooden spoon and reached out to stop the cat from sliding any closer to the red-hot elements. He managed it, but just barely, and Eames let out a terrified yelp. Arthur shoved him backwards slightly, away from danger, and picked the spoon off the floor to wash it before stirring his dinner again. When he glanced back at Eames, he noticed the cat licking his left paw incessantly and felt a nervous twinge in his stomach.

 

The Point Man had been almost certain Eames hadn’t touched the element, but he set the spoon down again anyway. “Let me look,” he insisted as he approached the multicoloured cat, who hissed at him and cradled his front paw close. “ _Eames_.” The cat gave a warning whine in the back of his throat before settling back on his hind paws, allowing Arthur to carefully inspect for damage despite the muscles twitching in protest at the contact. “There’s nothing wrong,” Arthur clarified, relieving himself with the news. “You just scared yourself.”

 

He returned to his food, setting a strainer in his sink in preparation. Eames hobbled closer on three paws, still favouring the fourth, and gave a pitiful mew. “Stop being dramatic,” Arthur chided him, nudging him away again when the cat began nosing at his pot of boiling pasta. “And while you’re at it, you should get off the countertop. I cook there, you know.” Eames, stubborn as ever, nosed at the countertop before settling down on his stomach demonstratively. Arthur sighed and ignored him, which only began the ‘hurt paw’ act again. “What do you want, Eames?” he grumbled at last.

 

Eames stared pointedly at the boiling pot as Arthur dumped its contents over into the skin, straining the water from the heap of noodles before placing it back into the pot. “I doubt cats like pasta,” he pointed out even as he teased a string of spaghetti from the mass and dropped it onto the counter. He watched the cat sniff at it before turning his nose up and leaping off the counter, leaving Arthur to mix in the sauce and pile everything onto a plate. “I told you so.”

 

His new companion was already settled on his table when Arthur turned around, looking like he belonged there. Arthur sighed and sat down, not bothering to argue the point that Eames shouldn’t be up on the table surface. Eames lay down carefully and began purring quietly as he watched Arthur eat with those big, bright eyes. Arthur did his best to look as comfortable as possible, despite feeling the contrary. He felt as though he should start up a conversation, as though he had invited Eames over and he was being rude for not speaking, but he knew it was pointless since the other man couldn’t respond. And Eames looked oddly content to just sit across the table from him, occasionally grooming a paw or a forearm.

 

“So...” Arthur trailed off, realizing he had caught Eames attention when he began speaking. Even as a cat, the Forger was overly aware of him. “How’s being a cat?” To his utter surprise, the cat across from him began to speak. Not in human words, unfortunately, but it was quite clear that Eames was attempting to communicate through a confusing string of cat-like noises. Arthur couldn’t help it – he laughed. Eames sent him a dirty look, hopped off the table and disappeared around a corner, even after Arthur shouted out an apology laced with amusement.

 

That left him alone to finish his dinner and wash his plates. It was what he had grown accustomed to, what had been the norm for many years. Yet after having Eames in his apartment for only one afternoon, not even able to communicate with the man, he suddenly felt lonely, rather than contently alone as he went about his usual routine. He shook those thoughts away though, reminding himself that Eames was a _cat_ , and that he wouldn’t be around for long anyway; there was no reason to suddenly decide to change his habits around.

 

Eames was still missing when he returned to the living room, but Arthur decided to take the night off from work anyway. He was worried that the Forger would stumble across the documents for his job, but he was also in dire need of a break. It was only with Eames’s disruption that he realized how exhausted he had become while working on this job; he could barely keep his eyes open. So Arthur ended up lying down on his couch and flipping through the channels until he found the news channel again.

 

He set the remote down on the coffee table and watched the news half-heartedly, paying more attention to the soft patter of paws on his flooring as Eames undoubtedly stuck his nose in every cranny of Arthur’s privacy. The Point Man couldn’t find the energy to be annoyed though, enjoying the simple comfort of knowing there was someone else in the flat with him. He doubted it would be this pleasing to have Eames in his house as a man, knowing the Forger would never shut up, but it made Arthur wonder if he should get an actual cat after this ordeal was over.

 

Time passed quickly and he only realized he had been drifting to sleep when he heard the television switch channels multiple times. He blinked his eyes open tiredly to see Eames pressing at the remote buttons awkwardly. A moment later, the warm presence of the cat was on Arthur’s stomach again, lying down and curling up into a ball. Without giving it much thought in his sleepy haze, Arthur began petting Eames again without prompting, taking extra time to scratch beneath the cat’s chin when that caused the cat to purr loudly.

 

Arthur stopped eventually when his arm grew tired, but Eames seemed unbothered. Instead, Eames simply licked his fingers gratefully and turned his eyes to the flickering screen. Arthur followed his lead and looked over at the television to see a romantic comedy movie playing. He chuckled lightly, jostling Eames slightly by accident and causing the cat to send him a ‘sit still’ look. “Are you serious?” Arthur asked him in amusement.

 

Eames sniffed indignantly and turned back to his chosen movie. With little choice, Arthur did the same. He was acutely aware of the fact that he was watching a romantic comedy movie with Eames of all people, and that Eames was technically lying on top of him, but he didn’t care enough to move. Though he did have to admit, if only to himself, that the rest of the week was definitely going to be interesting.

 

#

 

Arthur woke up alone on the couch, stiff and chilled. He was somewhat dazed, confused as to why he had fallen asleep on his couch and not in his bed. The television was off, though all of the lights were on in the living room. He didn’t have much time to consider it though when he heard a quiet _thud_ in the kitchen. Arthur’s instincts immediately kicked in and he was at his desk in seconds, knowing all of the squeaky floorboards to avoid.

 

He slid his handgun from the bottom shelf and flicked the safety off without a sound. The Point Man paused for a moment, tracking the sound as it moved towards his bedroom, and then followed in pursuit. It sounded as though the intruder was trying to be stealthy and not make any noise, which only had Arthur’s senses heightened further. He continued down the hallway, paused, and rushed into his bedroom with his gun held aloft.

 

There was no one in the room. Arthur pressed his back against the wall to make sure no one snuck up on him from behind, and slowed his breathing to listen for noise. There was a quiet rustling he couldn’t pinpoint and then a cat bolted out from beneath his bed in hot pursuit of a stuffed toy mouse, ripping across the carpeting. Arthur had his gun aimed before he could think but then angled the barrel away just as quickly, gasping with what he had been about to do. Eames, finally realizing he wasn’t alone, froze with the mouse dangling from his mouth.

 

The cat’s eyes were wide as they looked up at him and the gun and Eames crouched to the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible before scooting back beneath the bed frame. Cursing, Arthur put the safety back on and set the gun on the dresser before kneeling down on the floor. He could see Eames shadowed beneath the bed, his eyes reflecting the rays of sunlight from the window. “Come on, Eames,” Arthur beckoned with a hand, “I didn’t mean it. I just... I forgot you were here and you _know_ my instincts.”

 

When he lay down fully on his stomach and reached further under the bed, Eames swiped at him with claws and backed away from him further. “Fine, stay under there, you brat,” he huffed before standing again. He knew he could move to the other side of the bed or shove something under the frame to force Eames out, but there was no point in terrorizing him. Arthur picked up his gun and returned it to its proper place in the desk before tending to the two small cuts newly placed on the top of his hand.

 

Eames didn’t appear for the entire morning, so Arthur made himself breakfast and spent the morning at his desk. As long as Eames wasn’t in sight, Arthur could work through the documents in his desk and on his laptop. He felt bad for scaring Eames, and for what he had nearly done, but he tried to keep himself busy so he stopped thinking about it. It was difficult to ignore though, now that he knew his apartment should be loud with the sounds of someone else living there.

 

It came as a relief when Eames made an appearance in the afternoon, though he slunk by Arthur’s desk and didn’t acknowledge the Point Man when he tried to call him over. Instead, the cat hopped up on the low bookshelf and circled the small bed Arthur had bought the day before until it was deemed suitable. Eames curled up in the sun and watched Arthur for a while across the room before finally falling asleep. He didn’t like the distance but wasn’t going to argue the point, knowing he would have to stop working as soon as Eames’s curiosity peaked again.

 

That didn’t stop him from watching the calico tabby cat out of the corner of his eye though, watching as Eames spent the afternoon grooming, sleeping, and watching the city living beyond the window. He wondered idly what Eames was thinking – whether the man’s thoughts were the same as always or whether they had become more feline in their focus – and found himself losing focus as the hours dragged on.

 

He was saved from his work when Eames eventually stood, stretching until his back was in a sharp arch, and hopped to the floor. Seeing the cat’s trajectory, Arthur gathered up the papers strewn across his desk quickly and shoved them all into their folders before locking them away in a drawer. Eames sat on the desk top a moment later, glancing around and noting the obvious lack of paper. Then the cat turned his attention to Arthur’s laptop, which was still in the process of closing all of his files before powering down. As he watched Eames walk towards him, tail curled over towards his back, he bit his lip and slammed the laptop closed.

 

Eames paused and sat down again, tail sweeping across the wooden desk top in clear curiosity and agitation. Knowing he had been caught, Arthur stood quickly and headed for the kitchen. “How about some dinner, hm?”

 

He heard the thud indicating that Eames had followed him off the desk, but Arthur knew the Forger would be relentless in finding out what Arthur was hiding now. Sighing in resignation, the Point Man busied himself with refilling the cat’s food and water dishes before beginning on his own dinner for one. Eames left him part way through the meal but Arthur didn’t bother following, knowing the Forger was attempting to get into his desk and laptop, and also knowing that the cat would be unsuccessful.

 

The cat finally gave up and watched him wash the dishes from the counter again. Arthur was about to shoo him down, but with the guilt still sitting heavily in his stomach, he allowed Eames to remain on the counter. He could tell the cat was watching him impatiently, something about the tense shoulders and the way those strong muscles wouldn’t relax. So when he was finished, Arthur followed Eames as he led the Point Man back to the living room.

 

Arthur was surprised to be led past the desk to the couch though, with Eames stubbornly pawing at the remote again until the television flickered on. “You want to make a routine of this?” Arthur asked in curious amusement as Eames sat on the back of the couch and watched him expectantly. It was still relatively early in the evening and Arthur reminded himself that he had been working for most of the day; he could work around a short break, right?

 

With that consideration in mind, he lay down on the couch again and picked up the remote. He opened the menu and skimmed through the movie options, assuming Eames was still capable of reading the titles. He knew the choice had been made when the cat jumped from the top of the sofa onto his stomach again, preparing to settle in. Arthur selected the horror movie with slight anxiety – despite the fact that he dealt with guns and death for a living, Arthur still ended up getting scared by horror movies. He assumed he could actually blame it on his career choice, his suspicion, nerves and reflexes all heightened along with his imagination. He didn’t comment though as he set the remote down and commercials began to play before the movie; Eames didn’t need to know he was nervous.

 

Eames was kneading his stomach again, sans claws, in preparation to lie down. But out of nowhere, Arthur felt a laugh startled out of his mouth when Eames rubbed against a ticklish spot on his side. The cat on his stomach stiffened immediately in shock, ears back, and hind legs ready to run while his stomach lowered to rest against Arthur’s own. The Point Man could see those unnatural cat eyes widen as they watched him, startled and confused, and then what looked like mischievous realization sharpen those irises.

 

“Don’t you--!” was all Arthur managed to get out before Eames began pawing at his sides again, causing Arthur to wiggle and bite his lip to hold in his laughter. “Stop, Eames!” he begged, trying to block the cat from his body with his arms but worried about shoving Eames away fully in case he accidentally hurt him. Eames’s striped tail was swishing eagerly as the cat continued to make precise attacks against him; Arthur eventually had to surrender and allowed his laughter to escape while he tried to breathe. “Please!”

 

It was only when the opening credits began to play that Eames finally relented, though the cat was clearly high strung with energy with the way he wouldn’t sit still. Eames leapt forward and began licking at Arthur’s cheek with bright eyes. Arthur blinked his eyes open hurriedly, still panting slightly from being tickled, and awkwardly shoved Eames away from him. He was feeling suddenly overheated and would have insisted Eames get off him if the cat had not decided to finally settle down properly on Arthur’s stomach for the movie.

 

Arthur would admit that he spent half the movie watching the cat on his stomach more than the movie itself. He didn’t know how to feel about what had just happened; Eames had tickled him and then licked his face...but how did that translate to human standards? Had he and the Forger just play fought, ending it with an odd sort of kiss? Or had the cat – who appeared entirely unaffected by the previous moment between them _and_ the horror movie – just gotten worked up in the moment and meant nothing else by it?

 

He shoved the questions from his head because really, there was no point in asking questions that couldn’t be answered. And he was only making himself feel more awkward around Eames, which wasn’t helpful considering the fact that the man would be stuck in cat form with him for at least the rest of the week. So Arthur refocused on the movie and did his best not to fidget or jump too noticeably at the scary scenes. The Point Man knew Eames was aware of his movements considering the fact that the cat was sprawled across him, and Arthur was incredibly grateful that Eames was momentarily unable to speak.

 

Once the movie was over, Arthur turned off the television and carefully dragged Eames off him. The cat had fallen asleep near the end, curled up on him, but Arthur was unwilling to wake up cold and stiff again on the couch. So he settled Eames down on the couch, not moving him to the bed in fear of waking him up, and turned off all the nights on his way to his bedroom.

 

It was odd how he felt like he should be taking Eames with him, probably because they had fallen asleep together on the couch the night before. Arthur tried to shrug it off as he changed and slipped under his duvet, but it was hard to ignore how quickly Eames had become a part of his daily routine. He had always avoided the man during and after jobs, not wanting to become involved with such a nosy, infuriating Forger. But Arthur was starting to realize that he might actually miss Eames once he had been changed back into human form and no doubt left to return to his own rightful home.

 

The thought of what he might do when that time came plagued Arthur until he fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

#

 

When he woke up, he realized in his half-sleep haze that there was a heavy weight on the small of his back. Arthur forced himself not to move, part of his brain trying to assess what was going on while the other half of his brain insisted he ignore it and drift back to sleep. Curious though, Arthur lifted himself onto his elbows and craned his neck back for a closer look. There, curled into a fluffy ball on top of Arthur and the duvet, was Eames, deeply asleep.

 

Arthur briefly considered jostling the cat until he toppled off him, but decided against it. He had a deadline to consider for his job, but Arthur couldn’t quite find the motivation to move yet. He was bundled up in his duvet, pillows framing his head just right, and the warmth radiating from Eames’s body into his back had Arthur blinking sleepily again. So he yawned and buried his face back into his pillows, allowing himself to be lulled back into a dreamlike state.

 

Eventually he had to get up though, his stomach and bladder both protesting. The Point Man dutifully noted the flash of regret at having to leave his comfortable position and disturb the calico tabby, but there was no way around it. He rolled to the side slightly, just enough to cause Eames to slide off him onto a raised portion of the duvet. Arthur bit his lip as he watched Eames yawn and blink at him slowly, and then breathed a sigh of relief when the cat fell back to sleep.

 

He dragged himself out of bed carefully, leaving the duvet undisturbed, and wandered into the washroom to relieve himself and take a shower to wake himself up. Normally Arthur did not have any issues with waking up in the morning, especially when there was work that needed completing. But he had never woken up feeling so content before, and his bed had never felt quite that tempting.

 

Nonetheless, the hot water of the shower managed to wake him up and Arthur found his thoughts engrossed with plans for the upcoming job. He had only been brought in as an information gatherer, so he didn’t have to worry about actually going down into a dream with people he didn’t exactly trust. But he was still somewhat linked to these dangerous criminals – he had to pass along his information somehow – and Arthur wondered if it might be smart to move on to a new city after the job was complete.

 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he forgot all about Eames. That was, of course, until he wandered back into his bedroom, fresh from the shower with just a towel around his waist. Even worse, Eames had woken up during the time he had been in the shower and was wide awake, busy grooming himself on the bed. The cat paused, mid-lick and eyes wide as he focused on Arthur, who was effectively frozen in the doorframe.

 

Arthur felt his face flush with heat and knew it was from more than lingering shower steam. “Eames--” he choked out, feeling his stomach flip uncomfortably. Eames had sat up and noticeably looked him over, bright cat eyes lingering in the lower regions. “Get out!” The cat flinched at the sudden volume of his voice but made no move to leave; in fact, he curled his tail around himself and began to purr deep in his chest.

 

The Point Man couldn’t believe he had allowed this to happen. He couldn’t believe he had never _thought_ that this might happen when Yusuf had first arrived with the cat carrier. Instead, he had been worried about Eames finding out about his job, but this was so much worse. Every time they had worked together, he and the Forger had danced around one another, slowly edging closer but always turning away at the last moment.

 

Okay...it was Arthur turning away each time, not Eames. But even if those irritating pet names set his heart aflutter, and the man’s presence always calmed him more than it should, it didn’t mean Arthur _wanted_ this. To be precise, he didn’t want to _allow_ this. So what if Eames seemed far more loyal to him than he should be? That wouldn’t solve anything if either of them ended up on the wrong end of a gun. And that was a real possibility in this field. Arthur had always been drawn in by the tender flirting, those luscious lips, but turned and ran before it could go too far. He figured it was only fair to Eames; he wasn’t going to string the man along if he was never going to give in to his desires. The Forger deserved a chance to realize this and move on.

 

Eames had never moved on though. He had always been there with his horrifying clothes, his British accent and wit, and that dashing smile that always had Arthur melting – just a little bit more each time. He never seemed to tire of chasing Arthur, always a step behind in case Arthur might someday look over his shoulder and beckon the man to join his side. That dedication had only made it more difficult for Arthur to not indulge, but he sternly told himself that it would never work when they were out of the adrenaline-filled bubble of a job.

 

That argument had been promptly shattered when Yusuf dragged Eames back into his life, in a form that made it impossible to shove Eames aside or run away. And even though the man was actually in cat form, it had Arthur wondering if things _would_ actually work out between the two of them beyond the realm of a job...if Arthur would just allow it to blossom. Of course, he wasn’t ready to make that decision yet and was by no means ready to give Eames any indication that it was a possibility; he was not so cruel as to get the man’s hopes up.

 

Yet here he was, skin flushed and damp, and towel riding lower and lower on his hips with every passing second he stood there uselessly. “Seriously, Eames, get out!” he snapped again, trying to shoo the cat off the bed while securing the towel with his free hand when he felt it loosen warningly. Eames’s ears were perked up as he jumped out of Arthur’s reach and settled again. Huffing in embarrassed annoyance, Arthur paused to tighten the wrap of his towel to ensure it stayed before reaching across the bed quickly and snatching Eames up in his arms.

 

The sensation of fur against his bare stomach felt odd, but Arthur didn’t hold the cat long enough to really contemplate it. Instead he chucked Eames out into the hallway, not from a high enough height for it to hurt, but with enough force that the cat skidded down the hall slightly. It gave him just enough time to slam the door closed as Eames turned and dashed back towards the bedroom, finally giving Arthur some privacy.

 

Not _complete_ privacy, of course, since he could hear Eames pawing continuously at his door. “There’s nothing left to see,” he insisted through the door as he pulled up his pants and searched for a shirt to wear. When the cat had first arrived Arthur had felt required to go change back into his usual attire for a job. He hadn’t bothered though, firstly because Eames had already seen that Arthur didn’t exactly wear a three-piece suit in his own apartment, even while working; the illusion he had attempted to maintain had been shattered. Beyond that though, there was no point since Eames’s cat hair would cover every nice piece of fabric he owned the second he adorned it.

 

He heard Eames give out a displeased growl before pattering down the hallway. Despite his embarrassment and the odd shift in tone from when Arthur had woken up with Eames curled up on his back, Arthur did not feel uncomfortable in leaving his room once dressed. Perhaps he had grown accustomed to the Forger being in his apartment too quickly – perhaps he had just been waiting for an excuse to admit how well it actually seemed to work – but he wasn’t going to complain while he was stuck with the cat.

 

Arthur grabbed a quick breakfast and when he returned to the living room, he found Eames exactly where he had been expecting to find the cat: sitting on top of his laptop looking expectant. Arthur sighed and sat down at his desk, glaring eye to eye since the desk was currently aiding in Eames’s height. He sighed heavily, knowing there was no way he could hide this from the Forger for the entire time he was here while also meeting his deadline for the job. “I’ll tell you everything,” he finally relented, glaring when a smug look crossed the cat’s face. “After I’m finished my breakfast,” he added, just to be difficult.

 

Eames didn’t look bothered. Instead, the cat watched him eat for a few moments before seeming to get distracted by something. Suddenly, the cat was batting at Arthur’s hair, which he had left to air-dry since he would be inside working for the next few days. He was forced to catch the cat though when he nearly toppled into Arthur’s lap. “Can you not fall into my cereal, please?” he requested. At first he tried to lean away from Eames’s playful paws, but when the cat refused to give up and nearly fell off the desk again, Arthur muttered to himself under his breath and bowed his head forward slightly while he continued to eat.

 

He chuckled lightly as he continued to eat his cereal, feeling equally ridiculous and affectionate as Eames headbutted him affectionately. The cat was purring again, louder than before, and began to nip at the damp curls of Arthur’s hair. For some reason, Arthur didn’t mind. He just tried to keep himself from smiling too brightly, and making sure Eames couldn’t see said smile. He wasn’t very successful, and he definitely took longer eating than was strictly necessary. Eames seemed to be taking full advantage of the time though, playing with his hair or nuzzling against him hesitantly.

 

Finally, Arthur extracted himself from his desk to wash up his plates and return to work. Eames looked sad and neglected when he returned, but hopped off the laptop to sit beside it on the desk top obediently. The Forger knew Arthur’s work ethic, and also knew how dangerous it could be if you didn’t meet a job’s deadline. With no other options, the Point Man pulled his folders from the locked drawer while his laptop powered up.

 

He explained the basics of the job to Eames while organizing himself, explaining how this was a simple job and that he was not strictly involved; he was just collecting information and passing it along. Eames’s tail was swishing again, knocking some documents askew, clearly unimpressed. Arthur was almost holding his breath, waiting to be lectured on the recklessness of his reactions. He even had his retorts on the tip of his tongue, ready to refute the Forger’s usual arguments. But they never came – of _course_ they didn’t, Arthur reminded himself.

 

That didn’t mean the cat on his desk looked reassured though; quite the contrary. Eames stepped carefully over the folders of paper to lie down across Arthur’s hands, effectively pinning him and keeping him from logging onto his laptop. “I promise I’ll be alright,” Arthur heard himself insisting softly, pulling one hand from beneath that warm belly to scratch behind an orange and black ear. “You know me. I’m used to doing jobs on my own.” Eames wasn’t purring, even as Arthur’s hand continued to work into his soft fur. The cat just licked the corner of his still-pinned hand tenderly before looking up at him sadly. “And you know it’s not safe to just drop a job now.”

 

Eames seemed to give a heavy sigh before picking himself up and moving to a corner of the Point Man’s desk out of the way of paper. Arthur watched him nose at a few sheets of paper before sitting down on the cold wood. He sighed, knowing the Forger would never leave him alone now, and stood up from the desk. He plucked up the cat bed from the low bookshelf and set it on the window ledge beside his desk, making sure it was secure before sitting down in front of his laptop again. Eames was looking between him and the bed in clear confusion. “If you aren’t going to leave my side, you might as well be comfortable,” Arthur explained in exasperation before logging into his laptop and getting to work.

 

And that was how the next few days passed in a quiet but efficient and comfortable routine. Arthur would wake up each morning with Eames asleep on his back or beside him on the mattress. He would boot the cat out of the room before showering and find Eames in his cat bed in the sunlit window by his desk when he arrived newly clean with breakfast. Eames would paw or nibble at his hair playfully, no doubt astounded by the Point Man’s casual attire and appearance. Then Arthur would set his plates away and work long into the afternoon when they would both break for dinner and then end up watching a movie on the couch before sleeping.

 

Well, Eames slept a lot – a lot more than he would as a human. But Arthur didn’t particularly mind; it was somewhat comforting having the cat sleeping calmly beside him while he worked or made dinner. But Eames was always fully awake during their movies, as if he wanted to prove that he was still aware of what was going on, and of what Arthur was allowing them to share. Overall, Arthur was surprised at how productive he was being. Though Eames as a cat still proved to be just as distracting as Eames the human being.

 

#

 

It was the fourth afternoon Eames had been there when he suddenly decided it was absolutely vital for him to go out onto the balcony. Arthur had ignored him at first, figuring Eames would grow bored of pawing at the glass panel door _eventually_. The pawing grew more insistent though, and the pleading mewls turned into demanding howls. Arthur looked up from his laptop, feeling a headache coming on. This seemed to catch the cat’s attention though as Eames leapt up onto his desk, skidded across it, and took half of Arthur’s documents with him to the floor. “That was very mature of you,” Arthur declared as he watched Eames roll around on his back energetically. “What is _wrong_ with you?” Arthur grumbled as he finally pushed himself out of his chair.

 

Eames was on his feet immediately, circling Arthur and threading himself between the Point Man’s legs as they headed over to the balcony door. There, Arthur could see a very lazy, plump pigeon seated on the railing. “You have got to be _joking_ ,” he sighed, more to himself since Eames was rubbing against his leg in a very pleading manner. “Eames,” he had to say the name twice before the cat blinked up at him, still rubbing against him. “I’ll let you out if you promise not to do something stupid that will cause you to fall off my balcony.”

 

The cat gave a small noise of what Arthur hoped was agreement, so Arthur dragged the heavy balcony door open for Eames to walk in and out and also for some warm spring breeze to rush into his apartment. He was about to turn back to his desk, his temporary flatmate satisfied, when he felt a tug on his pant leg. Arthur blinked down to see Eames with the hem of Arthur’s pants in his mouth, attempting to drag him out onto the balcony. Wondering if Eames wanted him to get rid of the temptation of the pigeon, Arthur followed him out and shooed the bird away. 

 

But Eames seemed entirely uninterested in the bird as it flew away. The cat sat at the foot of a lawn chair that came with the balcony when he moved in, and stared back at Arthur with an almost challenging stare. “Eames, I have to work,” Arthur reminded the Forger, unwilling to give in this time. Eames, for once looking very much like himself, sauntered towards him with his tail curled lazily towards his back as he began to rub against Arthur again and purr – _flirty_. “Just enjoy the sun, would you?”

 

He turned to head back inside, leaving Eames on the sun-soaked balcony. But he was alone for less than a second as Eames darted in after him and continued rubbing up against him until Arthur nearly tripped over him. “Alright fine, I’ll join you. But I’m not going to sit out there doing nothing.” He knew he was giving up too easily, but he felt sorry for Eames. The man was stuck in this form and could only do so much to entertain himself as a cat. At the same time, Arthur felt like it was safer to give into the temptations to join Eames in these lazy, contenting moments when the Forger was a cat, not a man.

 

He saw Eames hop up and sit on his laptop again, clearly declaring ‘no work’. So Arthur bypassed his desk and pulled a novel off his low bookshelf. He settled down in the lawn chair until he was comfortable, crossing his legs with his knees hooked below the armrests. The material was already warm from the sun when he leaned back against it, and Eames wasted no time in curling up in his lap to steal similar heat.

 

The cat fit in his lap perfectly, tail draped over one knee while that patchy-coloured chin rested on his thigh. For a few long minutes, despite Arthur’s previous declaration, he set his novel aside to pet Eames thoroughly. It was gratifying to hear how much the cat was enjoying it, purrs rumbling deep and loud, and it was also surprisingly calming when he allowed it to be. He continued at it until he thought Eames was asleep, and then Arthur finally reached for his novel and thumbed to his nearly-forgotten bookmark.

 

Eames shifted as soon as his hand stopped moving though, and the next moment Arthur had a cat sitting on his stomach, effectively blocking his view of the words on the pages. Wondering if Eames could read full details as a cat, and if the man was bored, Arthur heard himself speaking before he really thought about it, “I could read to you.” The offer hung in the air for a long moment as Eames stared back at him, probably surprised by his offer since it wasn’t something Arthur would normally think to do.

 

But then Eames was shifting back into his lap, curling up into his previous position. Taking that as agreement, Arthur returned his bookmark to its current page and flipped back to the beginning of the novel for Eames’s benefit. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but it didn’t feel like nearly long enough for the sun to be getting as low in the sky as it was. At some point the cat had fallen asleep in his lap, stealing and sharing heat equally, and Arthur had fallen silent in his reading. Sometime after that, Arthur had set his novel down again and quietly pet Eames again. Even though he knew the cat was asleep, he hoped that Eames could maybe feel it in his dreams.

 

#

 

Two days after that, there was still no news from Yusuf about the cure. He could tell Eames was getting anxious and impatient, which led to the cat being more restless as he roamed Arthur’s apartment while the Point Man worked. He did his best to ignore Eames as he tried to stay focused on his work, but it was very difficult when he had to continuously get up and save Eames from the new place he had gotten himself stuck.

 

First it had been a wide flower vase one of his neighbours had thought would be an appropriate flat-warming gift when Arthur had first moved in. Arthur hadn’t had the heart to tell the older woman that he never planned on having flowers in his apartment, which was beside the fact that he would never be at his apartment long enough to keep something _alive_ , so he had accepted it graciously. It had ended up on the floor beside the television so it wouldn’t fall and break, the clay strong but old. And of course, Eames had thought it would be utterly _brilliant_ to fit himself into it and get himself stuck.

 

Arthur hadn’t noticed at first that Eames was absent, the cat sometimes exercising what freedom he had to explore Arthur’s flat more and to enjoy some privacy. It was only when he heard scared mewls getting louder and louder that Arthur finally glanced up from his work and went in search of his companion. It had been a challenge getting Eames out once he had located him, especially without breaking the vase, but they had managed it. The cat had looked very ruffled by the whole ordeal and spent two whole hours grooming his fur before trotting away and getting himself stuck on the highest of Arthur’s bookshelves and being too scared to jump down.

 

As Arthur grabbed a chair and collected a panicky Eames into his arms to set down safely on the floor, only to watch the cat wander away in search of more trouble, Arthur wondered if the Forger was just doing this to be a bother. There was little he could do about it though, except to lock Eames up in the cat carrier and he refused to be that cruel. So he did his best to leave Eames to it, get his work done as quickly as possible, and then indulge in their evening routine with Eames to keep the cat occupied.

 

He had to admit that the movies were enjoyable for him as well, giving his busy mind a break that he hadn’t realized was so useful for de-stressing until he began to take them daily. Eames seemed to be growing more affectionate by the day as well, which Arthur was starting to avoid less and less. He kept telling himself that it was just Eames being his usual self, but as a cat, and that it couldn’t be all that bad if he just enjoyed it for the short time the opportunity was available.

 

So by the beginning of the second week, Arthur nudged Eames awake, who had fallen asleep on his stomach again on the couch, while turning off the television. He pulled himself off the couch and didn’t comment when Eames followed him around the house. The Forger had quickly joined in on Arthur’s paranoid nightly activities, checking to make sure that every door and window was locked, that the stove was off, and that every light was off. He had expected some sort of teasing, however Eames would manage that in the form of a cat, but he had just followed Arthur around dutifully each night.

 

Then they would part ways while Eames went to get a drink of water and Arthur changed and brushed his teeth. They would meet again in the bedroom, usually with Eames already curled up on the unused half of the mattress waiting for him. Each time it happened Arthur would feel a jolt of anticipatory nerves rush through him, which he tried to suppress and hide as he curled under his duvet like it was nothing out of the ordinary. The scary thing was that it quickly _was_ becoming the ordinary.

 

Sometimes he would talk to Eames quietly, about the job or about the movie or anything else. Many times he would end up petting the cat until he yawned and shuffled closer to Arthur’s hip, looking shy but determined. But every time Arthur would finally flick off his bedside lamp, wish Eames goodnight, and settle down to sleep with the full awareness of the other man – cat form or not – falling asleep next to him.

 

#

 

Arthur dangled the stick over the edge of his desk, watching Eames bat at the string and feathers tiredly from the floor. It was only late afternoon but Eames had not slept yet that day, which was unusual for the cat. Arthur could only assume the Forger could sense Arthur’s nervousness as he internally debated through a dilemma. It was clearly taking a toll on the cat though, who barely opened his eyes as he reached up lazily for the multicoloured toy. Arthur was going to tell him – really, he was – but when he saw Eames finally give up and trot away to curl up in his cat bed, Arthur realized it would just be easier if he didn’t involve the other dream worker.

 

So he waited until he was positive Eames was asleep before writing down a phone number on a sticky note and powering down his laptop. He returned each document to its proper folder and set each folder with his laptop in the locking drawer of his desk. Then he snatched up his phone, dialled the number, and disappeared to the kitchen where his speaking wouldn’t disturb his sleeping companion.

 

He had hit a wall in terms of his information gathering; the final document he required before he went to the preliminary meeting tonight was impossible to get online. There were no electronic copies created, not even when he had the extra day to hack into the law firm’s databases. His only option was to either hope that the rest of his ‘team’ didn’t realize its importance until Arthur had moved out quickly, or get a hold of a physical copy of the document.

 

Running wasn’t beneath Arthur; it came with the job from time to time. That was why this apartment, his possessions, even his groceries were currently being purchased and signed under yet another alias. The only reason Yusuf had been able to find him was because he had kept the Inception team informed enough to find him in an emergency; anyone else looking for him without his specific directions would never accomplish their goal. Unfortunately, even though Arthur would be able to pack his essentials and move overnight, he couldn’t do the same with Eames. Arthur needed at least a few more days before Yusuf should have a cure ready, and it wouldn’t take this team _that_ long to realize the document’s importance.

 

That left Arthur with only one option; he would get a physical version of the document just long enough to make a copy. He would never get into the law firm’s building on his own – he was skilled at aliases, but the best forged documents in the world wouldn’t get him into a building he wasn’t hired at. So that meant he had to make the document come to him. Arthur thanked his foresight when beginning this job as he waited for someone to pick up the phone; he had befriended someone at the firm working on the case as a precaution.

 

“Hello?” a quiet female voice finally crossed through the phone.

 

From the time he had spent with her at the start of this job, Arthur assumed she was intelligent but timid. He felt bad for taking advantage of the woman’s feelings, which had clearly focused on Arthur since they had ‘accidentally run into each other’. But he dispelled that guilt by reminding himself that he would be making a copy and returning the original document so that she would not be directly involved. “Hello Scarlett,” he spoke in an easy, low voice.

 

“Oh, hello, Edward,” the woman sounded a little breathy. Arthur would have smiled at a job well done on his part, but that felt crude so he kept his face neutral. “I thought you might have forgotten me.”

 

“Never,” he assured her quickly. “I was wondering if you would join me for dinner this evening.”

 

“O-oh, really? Well this is very short notice, I’m just leaving the office now...” He could practically hear her smile across the phone. Arthur wondered, silently, how different his life could be right now if he wasn’t involved in illegal dream work. He could have been calling Scarlett over with a genuine desire for her company, rather than mentally planning out the evening to get at something he knew would be in her briefcase. She was quite enjoyable to talk to – Arthur hadn’t had to fake that – but he supposed he wouldn’t be able to return her feelings even if he was involved in an average job. It would help if his mind wasn’t so focused on completing a job, as would not having a dream worker in the form of a cat asleep on his windowsill.

 

“Come directly to mine then; you’ll have to backtrack on the subway if you go home first,” he suggested, remembering their idle – but incredibly useful – chatter on the first day.

 

“I’m not suitably dressed...” she protested, already sounding like she was giving in.

 

“You’ll look beautiful in anything,” he insisted. Arthur caught his reflection in a metal pot he had not yet put away from last night’s dinner. Even his reflection looked guilty. Yeah, he was a terrible person.

 

It didn’t take much more convincing for her to agree and mention that she would be there in about thirty minutes. Arthur wished her a safe journey, voice still calm until he hung up. Then he jumped into action and began cleaning and organizing the house while turning on the stove and oven for a fancy dinner. He made sure that everything incriminating – other illegal documents related to the law case, his gun, and so on – were packed and locked away, and then nudged Eames awake.

 

The cat batted him away at first and turned so that his back was facing Arthur, but the Point Man continued. “I’m sorry to wake you, Eames, but there’s something serious I need to talk to you about.” Eames, for his credit, was sitting in front of him and wide awake a few seconds later, probably hearing the tension in Arthur’s tone. “Look, do you trust me?” he began hesitantly. This seemed to be a poor starter for the conversation as Eames narrowed his eyes at Arthur. “Let me rephrase that,” he started again, “I _need_ you to trust me tonight.”

 

Now the Forger looked agitated, tail twitching as he watched Arthur critically. He was about to tell the dream worker everything – who was coming over, why she was here – but there was suddenly a knock at the door that startled both of them. “Shit,” Arthur cursed under his breath, not expecting his mark for another five minutes at least. “Just be good,” he pleaded as he abandoned Eames at the window and rushed over to the door to let Scarlett in.

 

Arthur made sure his eyes landed on Scarlett’s face first as he smiled and beckoned her into his apartment. The moment she had her back turned to remove a light jacket though, Arthur’s eyes were considering the briefcase in her painted fingernails. “Let me take these for you,” he offered selfishly as he scooped up her jacket and briefcase and settled them in his closet. “You look stunning, as usual,” he added.

 

“Oh stop it,” Scarlett chuckled, motioning towards her own business suit from the firm as she slipped out of rather delicate looking heels. Arthur didn’t bother arguing that there was nothing he could appreciate more than a good suit. Besides, she was already talking again. “You always know what—oh my!” her voice suddenly cut short when she turned to consider his apartment. “What’s that?”

 

Arthur looked around the corner of the hallway, knowing he would have to come back to the briefcase later. When he swept his gaze over the living room again, his eyes narrowed in warning at the cat now on his desk. Eames’s ears were flat back and he was crouched down as though he were preparing to pounce, his tail puffed in fury. “Oh that’s just my...my friend’s cat. I’m watching him while he’s on vacation. Sorry, he’s not a huge fan of strangers.” As though to emphasize this, Eames hissed. “Just ignore him. Let’s go finish preparing dinner.”

 

The cat stopped hissing and immediately turned those big blue eyes on him. Eames looked... _hurt_. Arthur swallowed hard, feeling his stomach clench in a way he wasn’t prepared for, and led Scarlett into the kitchen. He made sure the woman was thoroughly wrapped up in helping him cook before excusing himself to the washroom. Arthur was halfway to the closet when he saw Eames again, who hadn’t moved since the Point Man’s comment. The cat was lying down on his desk, chin on forepaws, and tail hanging limply over the edge of the desk.

 

He knew he had to get to the briefcase in the short time he had left, but his throat constricted every time he looked over at the Forger. So he took a detour and stood by the desk, knowing he had Eames’s attention even though the cat wouldn’t look up at him. “Alright, let me explain--”

 

“Edward, are you...talking to the cat?” Scarlett asked him in amusement as she came around the corner, armed with a wooden spoon and an oven mitt.

 

“I uh...yeah,” he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders in embarrassment. “I guess he’s...grown on me,” he muttered the last part as Eames jumped off the desk and slunk away under the couch, either not hearing Arthur’s words or not believing him. “Sorry, shall we?” he motioned back towards the kitchen, leading her away. Arthur was silently angry with himself for getting distracted by Eames’s moping, but at the same time he was glad he had taken the detour – otherwise, Scarlett would have come around the corner and found him rifling through her briefcase.

 

Their combined efforts had dinner ready shortly thereafter and they each took a plate to the kitchen table. “I’ll go get us some table mats,” he suggested quickly, not even bothering to sit down first.

 

“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” Scarlett waved him off with a smile, already spiralling some pasta around her fork.

 

“I insist,” he gave a playful bow before leaving as quickly as he could manage without rushing. Eames was nowhere to be seen but Arthur couldn’t take the time to care at that moment as he slid his lock picks from his waistband. He had the closet open and the lock picked before he heard slow feet coming down the hallway. His heart was racing in indecision as he debated between risking it and getting a photo, or trying to salvage it. Arthur bit his lip and snapped the briefcase closed again, only getting a quick glimpse of the document’s cover page before locking the briefcase and shoving his picks away again.

 

“I thought it would be nice if we ate out here in the living room,” Scarlett turned around the corner just as Arthur stood and snatched some table mats from the top shelf of the closet. “It’s cozier out here,” she added with a smile. Arthur forced a returning smile, heart beating hard with adrenaline, and nodded. He threw the table mats back into the closet and gave the briefcase a look before forcing himself to follow. He had the whole evening, right? Apparently not, judging by the scream and sound of a plate shattering on his floor a second later. “My shoes!” Scarlett cried, stepping over their fallen plates – which she had carried out of the kitchen – towards the door.

 

Arthur could smell it from where he was standing as soon as he focused, but he heard himself speaking anyway. “He didn’t...did he?” Scarlett had tears in her eyes when she awkwardly held the heels up by the back straps, the only portion not covered in cat pee. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett...”

 

She was crying now, shaking her head as she looked the ruined shoes over. “It’s not your fault,” she sobbed loudly. “I’m sorry for—for being like this. It’s just that my m-mother gave me these for my birthday right before she died...I’m sorry for the mess,” the woman waved towards the broken plates and their spilt dinner.

 

The Point Man wanted to sigh in exasperation, at the failure this had turned out to be, but forced himself to remain calm. “It’s fine. I understand. How about we go to the kitchen and try to get them washed up?” Anything to keep her in the apartment just a little longer.

 

“I think I’m just going to go home,” Scarlett was still crying, though not quite as loudly now. “Sorry for ruining the evening...I-I just...”

 

“At least let me lend you a pair of shoes,” he finally relented, taking pity on the woman. There was nothing else he could do now anyway – Scarlett wouldn’t move and she was in perfect view of the closet out here in the living room. She nodded her agreement and he disappeared briefly to grab a plastic bag for the soiled shoes before finding a pair of cheap flip flops he had shoved at the back of his closet for no particular reason. He eyed the briefcase, tempted as Scarlett carefully put her shoes away and slid on her new pair that Arthur would never attempt to retrieve. But it was too late now and he had no choice but to return her briefcase and jacket.

 

She gave him a tearful peck on the cheek, promising to call him again soon. Arthur said something noncommittal but polite in return, knowing he would have to run long before she worked up the courage to call after such a disaster of a date. Then he sent her on her way and closed the apartment door behind him. All too soon the room was silent, and Arthur forced himself into cleaning mode in order to avoid losing his temper.

 

He picked up the broken pieces of the two plates easily, the material safe against his skin, and dropped it all into another plastic bag before returning with a mop and hand towel to go over the spoiled floor. The clean up job was completed far too quickly – long before he had managed to calm himself down. Arthur considered making more food but realized he probably wouldn’t have time now. With that, Arthur returned to the living room and sat down on the couch, setting his phone on the table in front of him as he waited for a text he was now dreading.

 

Tonight wasn’t going to be pleasant. That was all he could think of as he sat there alone. If the other dream workers realized his failure during the one point of contact when he handed over the rest of the documents, things were going to get ugly fast. But even if they didn’t realize right away, how long would Arthur have before he had to pick up his life and move on? He wasn’t particularly going to miss this apartment – though it did hold a few recent, fond memories – but he really was incapable of disappearing without a trace when totting a heavy cat carrier.

 

Eames appeared then, slithering out from beneath the couch. The cat gave a meow that sounded half smug and half apologetic before hopping up on the couch and curling up on Arthur’s thighs since the Point Man wasn’t lying down. Arthur, only able to take so much disappointment and frustration and still manage to keep a calm exterior, shoved Eames off him and onto the floor. The cat gave a mournful cry and began rubbing against his leg. “Don’t, Eames,” Arthur snapped tiredly, resting his face in his hands. “Just don’t.”

 

Just then, his phone vibrated harshly on the wood of the table in front of him. Arthur blinked his eyes open and snatched up the phone, reading the text with growing dread. Eames, not knowing what was going on, was clearly getting agitated. He knew he was in trouble, but he didn’t know why, and Arthur no longer had the time to tell him. _Meeting changed. Same place. Twenty minutes_. He didn’t know why the meeting had been changed, but he doubted it was good news.

 

He pulled himself off the couch slowly, muscles dreading the pain they would probably soon be in from a confrontation. Arthur momentarily toyed with the idea of running now, but as he glanced down at the cat following him worriedly around the apartment, he knew it wasn’t a possibility. He shut Eames out of the bedroom as he changed, listening distantly to the apologetic mewls through the door. Arthur really did feel bad when he nudged Eames away with a shoe-covered foot when he opened the door a few minutes later, gaining another hurt look from the Forger. “You are _not_ getting cat hair on this suit,” he explained to Eames in determination, knowing it wouldn’t ease the man’s confusion much, but wanting to say something to fill the silence.

 

Arthur collected his lock picks, his favourite gun, his phone, and a finished folder of documents in silence. Everything was put in its proper place – out of sight – and then the Point Man headed for the door. Eames was still following him, voice growing more ragged and concerned as he continued to call after him, and Arthur couldn’t help but kneel down for a moment. Eames was there immediately, licking frantically at his palm, eyes never leaving Arthur. “Eames,” he murmured softly, catching the cat’s attention. “If anyone comes in, there’s a trapdoor I built under my bed. I loosened the hatch so you can get in.”

 

And then, before he could second-guess this, or listen to another desperate noise coming from Eames’s throat, he stood and slipped out into the hallway, locking the door behind him.

 

#

 

Eames was there waiting for him when he returned. This would have pissed the Point Man off considering the fact that Eames was directly disobeying the ‘hide’ rule, but at that moment he was in too much pain to care. He made sure to lock the door behind him before stumbling around pulling curtains closed. Eames trailed along behind him, calling out to him worriedly when Arthur didn’t bother responding at first. There were other things he had to focus on first.

 

Once all locks were in place, Arthur sent the now-useless folder of documents through the shredder twice before dragging himself to the washroom. He didn’t know what to do first, his body screaming in pain while also begging for food and sleep, but he forced himself to deal with his wounds first. He was not new to pain, but it was not often he ended up with wounds in reality, rather than in a dream. He was thankful he knew from his dream experiences how to deal with wounds like these though; hopefully he would be able to avoid any scarring.

 

He slid out of his shoes and suit jacket first before slowly undoing the buttons of his collared shirt. Arthur allowed both pieces of fabric to drop to the floor in a heap, knowing they were unsalvageable with the blood and tears in the fabric now. He didn’t bother shooing Eames away, who was still following him like they were attached as they both entered the washroom. When he finally got a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, Arthur finally realized why Eames was so worried. He spared a moment to rub behind Eames’s ears calmingly, who was seated on the toilet seat cover, while waiting for the hot water to start running through the taps.

 

With a washcloth he wiped away the blood streaked across his face from a cut on his temple – not deep enough for stitches – and a split lip. After that he turned his attention down to his bare chest, too pained to really comprehend the fact that his whole upper body was naked for Eames’s eyes. There were only a few shallow cuts he had to clean up before he began pressing fingers to different parts of his aching body tenderly. It felt like he had a few bruised ribs, but he was positive nothing had been broken.

 

Once it was established that he had nothing broken to cause internal bleeding, Arthur weakly shooed Eames to the floor and sat down to begin working on his arm. The bullet hadn’t landed properly, only catching the edge of his arm rather than burying deep. But it still hurt enough to cause tears to well up in his eyes as he wiped the wound clean with rubbing alcohol. He was thankful that Eames was smart enough to stay on the floor and not jostle him as Arthur sterilized the tip of a needle with a lighter and began stitching up the wound. Arthur knew he probably could have gone to the hospital to get it done without too many questions, but he didn’t think he had enough energy left to get there.

 

His hands were steady out of necessity as he made the four stitches and tied it off before wrapping his arm in bandage. But as soon as he was done tending to his wounds, his whole body began to shake again. The adrenaline still in his body had helped him deal with the pain of stitching himself up without numbing the area, but now his body felt every inch of skin that had been injured during the meeting. He told Eames to stay in the washroom while he changed, which the cat surprisingly did until Arthur was done sliding off his suit pants and slipping into soft pyjama pants and a loose shirt.

 

He told Eames when he was finished, and the Forger was immediately by his feet again, streaking fur of every colour across the lower portions of Arthur’s pants. The Point Man, not really caring at that moment, grabbed some plain slices of bread from the kitchen to fill his stomach before sliding gratefully into bed under his duvet. Eames, knowing where Arthur had been injured when he checked himself over, curled up beside him hesitantly, probably not knowing if Arthur would want him nearby now after clearly screwing up, but unwilling to leave unless specifically ordered to do so.

 

Arthur attached a silencer to his gun skilfully and set it on the night stand where he could reach it easily. He didn’t need to reload the gun since he had managed to wrestle one of the dream worker’s guns away to use in place of his own, hopefully covering his tracks. Then he turned off his bedside lamp and lay down fully. All of his anger towards Eames for screwing up his plan had melted away by this point, seeing no point in holding onto the grudge, and he dropped his hand to pet Eames tiredly. The cat wasn’t purring despite his touch, but that was probably due to guilt or worry. “It’s not your fault, Eames...” Arthur whispered, watching Eames in the dark. “Well, it is, but I forgive you.”

 

Eames gave a sad meow before shuffling closer and licking Arthur’s jaw and cheek carefully. Arthur couldn’t help the small smile curling the corners of his lips. Arthur told him everything in the silence of his apartment, too high strung with fear that someone might break in at any moment to sleep, but too exhausted to do anything more. He told Eames about the team of four dream workers that had pulled him in last minute, what they had been trying to accomplish, why he had invited Scarlett over. “We’ll have to have a talk about your jealousy levels when you can actually talk though,” he added as an afterthought.

 

He felt the cat try to pull away then, either embarrassed or ashamed, so Arthur hooked his uninjured arm around the cat’s body and dragged him close. Even though Eames had been attempting to escape, he immediately started purring when Arthur pulled him close to his body. “We’re going to have to leave tomorrow, Eames,” he warned the cat, not wanting them to become too comfortable when there was still stuff to deal with. He explained what had happened at the meeting, how the Extractor in charge had noticed he was missing a vital document, and how they had immediately attacked Arthur as a mole, unwilling to give him more time to get the document.

 

“I got the leader and his right hand man, but the two lackeys got away,” he explained quietly, body rushing with adrenaline now that he thought about it. “I’d like to be gone before they work up the courage to come avenge their employers.” Eames gave a heavy sigh and nestled closer, his heat soaking into Arthur’s side pleasantly. “I need to get some sleep to get everything ready to run tomorrow. Can you stay awake in case they come tonight? I doubt they will but...” Eames rested his chin on Arthur’s shoulder to quieten him; the cat looked completely awake and determined. “Thanks,” Arthur murmured before finally allowing his eyes to drift shut.

 

The clock on his table told him it was a little after four in the morning when Eames began pawing insistently at his arm. The world outside was still dark and quiet, the sun not yet arriving for the day, and Arthur was awake immediately. Even though he could have used another day of sleep, he forced himself into a seated position and reached for his gun, wishing Eames could speak to tell him what was wrong. But the cat, as soon as he was sure Arthur was awake, jumped off the bed and slid down the hallway as quietly as a shadow. A second later he heard a floorboard creak and a whispered curse.

 

His whole body tensed up as he flicked the safety off his gun and slid out of bed. He pressed himself up against the wall out of sight, trying to determine where the dream workers and Eames were. Before he could even move, he heard a yell and a ‘ _Get this crazy cat off me_!’ before a string of gunshots sounded. Arthur clenched his eyes closed, fear gripping his heart for Eames’s safety, and also realizing that he didn’t have long to deal with these two before someone called the police now. Such incompetence.

 

Arthur slipped down the hallway as quietly as he could manage as he heard two thuds, one louder than the other, and then footsteps. He swung around the corner, gun raised, and found only one of the two dream worker lackeys still standing. He wanted to scoff at the embarrassing fact that the man had shot his companion in an attempt to get at Eames, but instead focused as he took aim. He knew that there was no way he could get the bodies out of his apartment now without someone noticing, so he would have to use the situation to his advantage. With this in mind, he purposefully aimed to make it look like a lucky shot, and pulled the trigger back.

 

The dream worker dropped to the floor like a rag doll, not even managing to get more than one poorly-aimed shot off in Arthur’s direction. Arthur didn’t allow himself a moment to breathe though, removing the gun’s silencer before allowing the gun to drop to the floor, as though he were in shock. Then he reached for his phone and dialled the police. He didn’t alter his breathing when someone picked up on the other end, though he allowed tears to fall as he sniffled loudly. He explained the situation amongst gasps for breath and intermittent sobs, ensuring he would get labelled as killing in self defence.

 

At the same time, he was calmly cleaning his apartment of anything that could ruin his story. His silencer, the shredded documents, and the temporary cell phone he had been using for contact with the dream worker team, were all shoved underneath the floorboards of his bed. Arthur took the time to crush the mobile to ensure it wouldn’t have a trace, and then made sure the trap door was locked up tight. By the time the police told him they would be right over, the apartment had already been dealt with.

 

He stepped over his gun and the dead bodies as he hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket, finally realizing what was missing. “Eames?” he called out, desperately hoping the cat had just slipped beneath a piece of furniture to get out of the way. When he rounded the edge of the couch, he finally saw Eames crumpled against the far wall by the television, unmoving. “Eames!” Arthur ran over and couched down, eyes blurring with real tears this time. There was no blood, leading him to assume the cat hadn’t been shot, but it looked as though he had been kicked across the room. “Eames, can you hear me?”

 

One blue eye opened into a narrow slit, focusing on Arthur after a moment. Then Eames let out a quiet whine that had Arthur’s heart beating rapidly. “Shit, Eames, why did you go and do something so stupid?” Arthur berated without any real bite to his words, worried more than anything else. He pulled Eames into his arms awkwardly, trying to avoid the places that had the cat growling warningly. Finally he made it to the couch, large, fat tears falling now as Eames stiffly curled up in his lap. “Do you think anything’s broken?” he asked tentatively, brushing that multicoloured fur idly.

 

Eames looked up at him for a long moment and then licked his thumb, the one part of Arthur’s skin he could reach without any added movement. Even though Arthur was still concerned, the continuous licking felt like it was aimed towards calming _him_ down, Eames telling him that he wasn’t in any immediate danger. “We’re still going to a vet as soon as one opens,” he insisted sternly, more to make himself feel like he was doing something than anything else. Eames merely heaved another sigh and leaned into Arthur’s moving fingers.

 

It didn’t take long for sirens to sound in the distance, and for there to be a heavy knock on his door. The door itself swung in, having been broken by the intruders, and there stood a hallway full of police officers. Arthur tried to remember the shock he had felt the first time he had killed someone, and did his best to play his part while various officers questioned him, took photographs, packaged away evidence, and everything else. He refused to move and jostle Eames and, if he was honest, to allow Eames out of his arms. So the two officers asking him questions were forced to sit on the coffee table.

 

It took at least another two hours before things finally began to wind down. The bodies had been removed and the floors cleaned. They had pictures of pretty much his entire apartment, and the guns were safely tucked away for further inspection. One officer had arrived at one point claiming he had gotten security footage of the two breaking into the building, and testimonies from his neighbours had been collected. Arthur had been questioned until his throat was dry, but he knew enough to keep his story straight and paint himself in the victim’s place. It helped that someone got a call at one point that confirmed one of the lackey’s bullets matched those from an earlier murder that day – Arthur silently thanked his paranoia leading him to use another gun for the earlier meeting.

 

When it was all over, he was informed that he should stick around in case they had any further questions, but that there shouldn’t be too many more issues. Arthur thanked them quietly, still seated on the couch as they pulled the door closed behind them. Eames had fallen asleep on his lap a long time ago, but the sun was up now and Arthur was unwilling to leave any injuries unchecked. So he carefully nudged Eames awake, who yawned and licked his hand again like a ‘ _hello_ ’.

 

“We’re going to the vet,” Arthur informed him, carefully lowering the cat to the floor to walk himself into the carrier. He was thankful, for once, that Eames was a cat since he knew it would have been a huge challenge to get a real cat into the carrier without injuring it further. Eames watched him with those big blue eyes as Arthur turned on his laptop and found the nearest animal hospital in the area, which would be open in ten minutes. “I’ll do my best not to jostle you,” he promised as he picked up his wallet, keys and long-term phone before picking up the cat carrier. He doubted the Forger was impressed with being carried around like this, but he wasn’t sure if it was required for pets to be in carriers and didn’t want any further hassle.

 

Knowing there was no point in dragging Eames through morning rush hour on the subway, Arthur took the elevator down to the underground parking garage to his car and set the cat carrier on the passenger seat facing him. Arthur winced every time they hit a bump on the unevenly paved streets and Eames gave out a pitiful grunt or whine, but luckily it was a relatively short drive until they were in the animal hospital parking lot.

 

The building had just been opened so they were seen right away even without an appointment. He felt guilty as he was instructed to place the cat on a cold, metal table. Eames immediately tried to escape back into the cat carrier, and the vet told him that cats often calmed down when they had someone they trusted with them. This led Arthur to begin petting Eames again, whispering reassurances while the young vet went through a few basic tests before preparing to take a quick x-ray. He felt a warm affection blooming in his stomach as Eames calmed under his hand, clearly trusting the Point Man when he couldn’t do much himself. Arthur did receive a few glares though, throughout the appointment, that clearly meant ‘ _I will kill you slowly_.’

 

He didn’t mind the silent death threats though, deciding they were worth it when the vet informed him that Eames was a little bruised but otherwise completely healthy. Being sent out of the animal hospital with the instructions to ‘take it easy’ seemed to be directed towards him and Eames, since the Point Man was sure his body didn’t look perfect in the weak morning light either. But he took the woman’s advice to heart and decided they’d take a few easy days when they got home.

 

Arthur didn’t have any jobs to deal with. His former team was dead, effectively framing each other for the deaths. There had still been no news from Yusuf, and both he and Eames were in bad shape. It seemed like the perfect time to take a break from things, so when they got home he got them both some food before they promptly fell into bed and slept for the next fourteen hours straight, side by side.

 

#

 

The next few days brought them back to their oddly comfortable routine they had established when Yusuf first dropped Eames on Arthur’s doorstep in cat form. They would wake up, usually with Eames on top of Arthur, get breakfast, and then spend the day relaxing. They frequented the balcony each afternoon when the sun was the warmest, and also ended up watching quite a few movies. Eames had pawed at the door when a commercial depicting a park came on the television but Arthur shook his head; there was no way he was trusting Eames on a leash, nor would he trust the other animals they would no doubt run into on the walk.

 

Eames had sulked for a little while, no doubt growing bored of being in cat form and not being able to do what he pleased. But he returned to Arthur a short time later, newly groomed and as affectionate as always. Arthur began to wonder what it would be like when Yusuf eventually came up with a cure and Eames returned to human form. Would the man thank Arthur for allowing him to stay and say goodbye, off to flirt with someone else in some other city? Or would Eames want to stay with Arthur, even when he had the choice to leave? Had he really been teasing during all those jobs?

 

The bigger question, he knew, was what Arthur would want after this whole ordeal. He had to admit that he had been deeply shaken when he had thought Eames was dead, crumpled against the wall. It still pained him to see Eames limp slightly when following the Point Man around, joints stiff as they healed; it didn’t ease his worrying with the realization that he, too, was limping slightly as he recovered. They were quite a pair. Arthur knew that he wanted Eames to be happy and healthy, something he had wanted in the past but never really had the courage to admit.

 

He was also starting to realize how accustomed he had become to Eames’s presence. Arthur was used to living his life alone – he had chosen it to be that way. But now his apartment had a new warmth in it, and he actually looked forward to waking up and finding Eames still there by his side. Even though they were doing the most mindless tasks imaginable, it was pleasant to be sharing that with someone.

 

Arthur looked down at Eames, who was curled up on Arthur’s stomach and watching him more than the movie. He brushed his fingers through that glossy fur gently, smiling as Eames continued to purr loudly. Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to do this once Eames had changed back – he didn’t particularly want Eames to lie on top of him on the couch – however he couldn’t help but consider how nice it would be to have the Forger’s presence beside him all the same.  Eames turned his head into the touches and gave a curious mew, the end of his tail twitching with a returning energy. “Just thinking,” Arthur offered softly, not wanting to get into this sort of discussion when Eames couldn’t speak in return.

 

Just then there was a knock at the door. Eames looked like he was going to protest moving, keeping Arthur all to himself, but eventually hopped to the floor to follow Arthur to the door. He hadn’t received any phone calls during the day, so he was surprised to see Yusuf standing in his doorframe with a bag in one hand and a triumphant grin on his face. Eames, by way of greeting, hissed. “Hey, is that any way to greet your friend who worked tirelessly to make you a cure?” the Chemist grumbled, kneeling down to pet the cat carefully in greeting.

 

“And who got him like this in the first place,” Arthur added, understanding Eames’s momentary flash of annoyance.

 

“You can’t blame me for his curiosity,” Yusuf retorted, chuckling lightly. Eames, insulted, returned to the couch to sulk. “I brought the cure but unfortunately it will take about a day for it to work. I hope you don’t mind him staying for one more night. I’d take him but I’m headed to England right after this to buy some crushed Kangaroo Paw from a friend.”

 

“You’re buying _what_?” Arthur blurted out, mildly disgusted, as Yusuf walked by him towards the couch.

 

“Relax, it’s a flower that grows in Western Australia,” the Chemist reassured him as he pulled out a glass case with a needle and bottle in it. “I just don’t want to fly that far to get some. Now Eames,” the man turned his attention to the cat, who was backing away from the needle slowly. “This is going to hurt either way, but it will hurt less if you don’t move so sit still.”

 

Eames absolutely refused to sit still so Arthur crossed the room and sat beside him, carding his fingers through soft fur to calm him. Yusuf gave the injection neatly before packaging away the bottle and needle. “Thanks,” Arthur said on Eames’s behalf, who was curled up closer to Arthur now as he licked his new wound.

 

He could see Yusuf noting their closeness and Arthur was grateful that the man didn’t comment. “Anytime for my old friend,” he patted the cat softly. “I’m sorry I’m not staying longer...”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur waved his worries aside, secretly pleased that he would have one more day with Eames as such an affectionate cat. “I’ll call tomorrow to give you the results.” Yusuf nodded, finished packing, bid his farewell and left. Both of them spent the rest of the afternoon in much the same way as normal, though Eames had taken to grooming himself a lot more than usual. Arthur left him to it but stuck close, silently worried that Yusuf’s ‘cure’ would have some nasty side effects.

 

By the time they were crawling into bed though, there didn’t seem to be any sort of reactions. Arthur didn’t know if this was a good or bad thing, pleased that there were no side effects but worried about what would happen if it didn’t work at all. “If it doesn’t work, you’re welcome to stay here while Yusuf works on another cure,” he offered in a rush, purposefully staring up at the ceiling rather than the cat who was still cleaning himself at the foot of the bed. Eames’s head bolted up to stare at him, eyes wider than usual. “Not to say that it won’t work,” Arthur added hastily.

 

He watched as Eames picked himself up and wandered closer to him, carefully stepping up onto Arthur’s stomach. The cat lay down on his stomach, resting his chin on his forepaws on Arthur’s chest. Eames didn’t look terribly worried or offended, but was watching Arthur closely. The Point Man wanted to know what the Forger was thinking and hoped that, come the following day, he would finally be able to ask. “All I meant was that I enjoyed our time together,” he finally spoke shyly.

 

Eames shuffled closer and nuzzled Arthur’s neck. He felt a soft, hesitant lick to his neck, and then he saw Eames curl up into a ball for sleep. “Goodnight to you too,” Arthur returned with a smile as he turned off the light and allowed his own eyes to drift closed.

 

#

 

Arthur woke up with a tongue on the side of his neck. “Eames...” he groaned softly, wondering why the cat had suddenly decided to wake him up in this way. He might also admit that it felt quite nice, except that would be weird.

 

“Yes, darling?” a breathy British voice ghosted over Arthur’s ear before that tongue returned.

 

Arthur flinched and stiffened immediately, his eyes flying open in surprise. “Eames!” he choked out, realizing now that the tongue on his skin was much larger, warmer, and _wetter_ than it had been the night before. “What are you doing?”

 

“What I’ve wanted to do for the last two weeks, love,” Eames hummed, replacing his tongue with hot, wet, _sucking_ lips. “Wait, that’s a lie,” the man pulled away just long enough to speak, peppering kisses along Arthur’s neck. “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

 

Arthur, despite himself, arched his neck to give Eames better access and gave a quiet whine in the back of his throat at the sensation of the Forger sucking and kissing a mark onto his skin. He took quick note of what was going on around him, before his mind was entirely taken over by a pleasurable haze. He could feel Eames against him, warm chest against his back, hips slotted together and legs entangled. There was also a hot, branding hand wound around his hip, brushing teasingly against his stomach beneath the fabric of his shirt.

 

The Point Man felt dizzy for a moment, struck with the sudden realization of how _large_ Eames was now that he was not in cat form anymore. He knew the man was large before this, of course, but it was an entirely different matter feeling that bulk against you, squeezing you, and those muscles holding you close. “Eames...” he whispered again, not sure if it was in protest or to urge the man on. Everything was happening so fast, Arthur suddenly required to make a decision. Last night he had invited Eames to stay with him if the cure didn’t work – which it obviously had – but did that offer cross over to human-Eames?

 

The Forger’s lips disappeared suddenly and Arthur heard a small noise of protest in the back of his throat. But when he glanced over his shoulder, dazed now, Eames was still there. The man was slowly turning Arthur until he was on his back, and then Eames straddled his stomach. It was the same position they had fallen asleep in, except Eames was keeping the majority of his weight off Arthur now; Arthur was thankful the other man remembered to be careful with their battered bodies. And Arthur could see, as the sheets fell away behind the other man to rest on Arthur’s legs, that Eames was very... _naked_. “Sorry about this, pet,” Eames smirked down at him, no doubt noticing the direction of Arthur’s wide-eyed gaze. “Yusuf forgot to bring me something to wear.”

 

“And you didn’t think to borrow something of mine?” Arthur squawked, forcing his gaze away from Eames’s very obvious... _interest_. Of course, there didn’t prove to be many better options when Arthur’s eyes roamed up that broad, muscular chest, over a web of tattoos with a no doubt equally interesting web of stories. Even looking at the Forger’s face proved dangerous as he got caught in that beautiful stare, now through human-shaped eyes.

 

Arthur’s fingers were moving before he consciously thought about it. They trailed over a few tattoos before being drawn up to that gorgeous, suddenly-vulnerable face. A finger brushed soft brown hair aside, causing Eames to close his eyes and hum in pleasure. He touched soft cheeks, ran a finger down the sharp ridge of the man’s nose, brushed ragged stubble, and traced the outline of those plump, tempting lips. Eames was certainly not a cat anymore, though he still licked Arthur’s thumb teasingly as it traced those lips before sucking his thumb into a very hot, moist mouth. Arthur was shocked by how _appreciative_ his body was of the fact that Eames was no longer a cat.

 

“I was hoping clothes might not be necessary,” Eames whispered playfully when Arthur finally pulled his thumb free. The Forger simply caught his hand though before it could escape and began planting kisses on his palm and down the inside of his arm. Arthur blushed at the implication of those words, and with the way his cock twitched and began to swell in returning interest to Eames’s own. “God, you’re gorgeous, darling,” Eames leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms, and whispered against Arthur’s skin. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I enjoyed every second with you the last two weeks,” the man continued, voice sinfully low as Eames slowly hiked up the hem of Arthur’s shirt to reveal his stomach. Arthur felt his body tingling as his senses heightened. “But I wish we could have had these last two weeks together with me as a human.”

 

“You could...” Arthur panted, thoughts fizzling out as large, warm fingers began tracing circles onto his stomach and chest. “You could stay...now.”

 

Those fingers disappeared quickly and Arthur blinked his eyes open hurriedly, heart beating rapidly. Had he misunderstood Eames’s words? Had the man merely been expressing an interest in sex and nothing more? Had he gone too far, said too much? But when he looked up at Eames, who was definitely _much_ larger than he remembered as he pressed Arthur into the mattress, the man looked shocked and hopeful. “Do you mean that, love?”

 

Arthur bit his lip for a moment, thinking. And then, for once, he decided not to second guess himself and nodded. He had enjoyed these last two weeks with Eames – enjoyed the companionship. It was clear that his whole body was excited by the prospect of Eames’s closeness as well, rather than just his lower regions. His heart was fluttering, it felt as though he had butterflies in his stomach, and he felt utterly warm and _wanted_. “Do you think I’d be letting you paw at me the way you are if I didn’t mean it?” he quipped, still feeling a little shy about admitting his feelings.

 

Eames grinned in equal amusement and joy. “I was trying to soften you up before asking if I could stay despite changing back.”

 

“Yeah well... _softening_ me up isn’t exactly what you accomplished,” Arthur hissed, bucking up against Eames demonstratively.

 

He watched as the other dream worker glanced down, aware of the way the man’s eyes darkened with lust. That sent a thrill through Arthur. Eames’s eyes sought his again after a moment, and his gaze could only be described as predatory. “I have never been happier to fail,” Eames admitted before descending quickly, catching Arthur’s lips with his own. Arthur, feeling another shock run through his body, immediately brought his hands up to thread into soft hair and match the kiss in affection and intensity. “Wait, wait,” Eames was suddenly fighting to pull away, and Arthur felt a cold dread fill him. “I’m getting ahead of himself,” the Forger panted, lips swollen from their kiss. “There’s something else I wanted to say first.”

 

“What could possibly be so important?” Arthur asked impatiently, also panting and no doubt very flushed.

 

Eames smiled and leaned forward again, holding his weight with one arm while cupping Arthur’s cheek with the other. “I love you, Arthur.”

 

Arthur was pretty sure his heart stopped, just for a second, as those words and Eames’s serious, nervous expression washed over him like a tidal wave. He felt overwhelmed by the sudden commitment he had never even bothered to consider. But with the way those words easily put all of his fears and uncertainties aside, blessed him with an all-encompassing feeling of happiness, he knew it was worth it. “I love you, too, Eames,” he stated strongly, and then... “Now will you hurry up and kiss me again?”

 

“Anything for you, my love,” Eames chuckled before capturing his lips again. It was slow and sweet, something that could be equated to a fairy tale ending. It was wonderful, how chaste and undemanding it was – they were both just enjoying the sensations and silent declaration matching their vocal one. However, it didn’t last long with both of them already wound up, and Arthur arched into the touch when he felt Eames’s hand trial from his face down his side to caress his hip bone. Their kiss broke apart when Arthur gasped, Eames swallowing the sound before they pulled away for breath. “Please tell me you have lube and condoms, doll.”

 

“Lube is in the bedside table,” Arthur waved a hand loosely in the right direction, “But no condoms.”

 

“None?” Eames was flushed and panting, watching him in mild surprise.

 

Arthur glanced away, feeling embarrassed. “You don’t need them with yourself.”

 

And Eames, always able to turn an embarrassing moment into a memorable one, quirked an eyebrow. “No one can satisfy you but me?”

 

He knew the man was joking, but he didn’t see a point in lying. Eames might as well know that he was the one Arthur thought of when alone; the one whose name spilled from Arthur’s lips as he spilled come over his own hand. “No.”

 

Eames flushed beautifully at that. “Say that again,” he pleaded, breathless now.

 

“It’s only you,” Arthur declared again, finally willing to admit it aloud and to himself now that he knew he would not be rejected for it.

 

Eames’s lips returned, but this time there was something different in the way their lips slotted together. Arthur wasn’t sure how to pinpoint what was different – it was still hot, wet, adoring, and desperate, all rolled into one. But the way their whole bodies locked together like two perfect puzzle pieces, the way the kiss felt like something given lovingly and stolen greedily, the clashing of teeth and the tangling of tongues... Arthur couldn’t get enough. He hooked a leg over Eames’s own and arched upward, pressing their bodies close together and dragging a filthy moan from his companion’s lips.

 

“It’s only ever been you, darling,” Eames breathed against his lips when they finally parted again, ready to move on to a more carnal declaration.

 

“Then why do we need condoms?” Arthur surprised himself with his own words, always very careful about his health. But it seemed logical that, if he and Eames had both been without partners for some time and had been clean to share needles with the PASIV, it would be safe to finally share this without the added protection.

 

Eames began petting Arthur’s hair gently as their eyes met, and Arthur suddenly realized why Eames had purred every time he had pet the cat. “I was clean the last time I got tested. But I want to get tested again after Yusuf’s mess of chemicals...just to be safe.”

 

“Thank you,” Arthur murmured, catching Eames’s hand and kissing each finger adoringly.

 

“For what, love?” Eames blinked down at him, a confused smile curling those wet, swollen lips.

 

“For caring enough about my health to not take chances,” he whispered.

 

“Of course, Arthur,” the Forger kissed him chastely. “It’s all you, remember?”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur breathed, wondering if his heart could flutter any faster. “I remember. Now go get some condoms.”

 

Eames groaned, and this time not in pleasure. “Why do I have to go get them? I don’t have money and I don’t know where to go.”

 

“Because you love me,” Arthur offered playfully, snuggling deeper into the sheets. “My wallet’s on the desk and there’s a convenience store two buildings down the street.”

 

“Don’t take advantage, sweetheart,” Eames chuckled and kissed him solidly.

 

But Arthur pulled away quickly, suddenly feeling guilty. “I wouldn’t,” he assured, not wanting to ruin something he had never thought he would be lucky enough to have in the first place.

 

Eames kissed his forehead, each eyelid, his nose, and each cheek tenderly. “I know, darling. I was joking.” Arthur stiffened when Eames sat back and began tugging at the waistband of his pyjama pants. “And please _do_ take full advantage when I return. However, for now, I’ll be stealing these as your punishment.”

 

The Point Man couldn’t do anything but arch as Eames dragged the fabric of his pants down, brushing over his cock teasingly, before pulling them off fully. “What--?” was all he managed before Eames was getting off the bed to begin pulling his sleeping pants on. “Where are you going?”

 

“I’d mock your lack of focus, pet,” Eames smirked, stepping up to the side of the bed and pulling Arthur’s shirt over his head carefully. “But it’s far too endearing.” As soon as Arthur was free of his clothes, laying bare for Eames’s eyes to view – and view he did – his companion ducked down and kissed him again. “What I do for love,” Eames gave a dramatic sigh, giving a flourish towards his tented crotch area. “This is going to be an awkward trip to the shop.”

 

Arthur chuckled, stretching his body and smiling when he saw Eames track the movements, feeling devilish. “Grab a coat from the closet. I’ll be waiting.”

 

He took it as a compliment with how quickly Eames left the bedside then, knowing the man must have run most of the way for him to get to the shop and back in under five minutes. Arthur felt a little awkward sprawled out naked on the mattress, the sheets kicked aside clumsily, idly stroking himself with the thoughts of what was about to happen. He didn’t regret his actions though, when Eames returned to the apartment and stopped dead in the bedroom doorframe, mouth hanging open and pants gaining a damp patch on the tented portion.

 

Eames was on him in seconds, pressing him hastily into the mattress. Arthur spared a moment to take in the sight of his much-too-small shirt stretched across Eames’s chest before pulling at the fabric. Eames helped him remove the shirt before throwing away the pyjama pants, and then the other man grinned lewdly down at Arthur before pressing their hard cocks together. Arthur grappled at Eames’s arms, digging nails into flexed muscle, and threw his head back against the pillows with a low groan.

 

They moved against each other for a few long, oxygen-deprived minutes, while whispering everything and nothing against one another’s parted lips. Then Eames pushed himself away just long enough to grab the lube from the bedside table and coat his fingers before returning. Arthur remained sprawled on the mattress, watching Eames move down to kneel between his parted legs. He’d feel obscene if he was with anyone else, but seeing Eames watch his body like a rare treasure had warmth spreading across his skin.

 

The first finger slid in easily, and Arthur squirmed around slightly to get used to the sensation of another’s large finger – _Eames’s_ large finger – brushing his insides like a delicate promise. The second finger hurt slightly, and Arthur allowed a tiny hiss of pain to escape into the room as he clenched his eyes closed. Although he didn’t want to admit it aloud, it had been a long time. “Relax, love,” Eames kissed one of Arthur’s inner thighs, and then the other. “We’ll take it slow.”

 

“I’m not a virgin. I don’t want to take it slow,” he huffed, trying to force his body to relax.

 

“Well that’s just too bad,” Eames chuckled, removing his fingers for a moment to lead Arthur into bringing his knees up, his heels against his ass. Arthur gave the man above him another glare but then relaxed, knowing Eames was acting out of concern rather than trying to be annoying.

 

This thought had him relaxing fully as he felt two slicked fingers press against his opening again, and as they slid in, he allowed his breath to leave him in a rush. “I love you,” he said again, eyes on Eames. Not wanting to ruin the pace, Eames licked a long line up each of his inner thighs rather than leaning forward to kiss him again. His partner smiled, loving and grateful, and continued working his fingers in and out gently. It was all Arthur needed to know as he smiled in return and allowed his head to rest on the pillows again.

 

He closed his eyes as Eames thrust his fingers in and out, curling them against his prostate to drag the occasional gasp of Eames’s name from his lips. He wanted to focus solely on the sensation of Eames’s fingers in him, the man’s warmth between his thighs. “Are you ready for three, pet?” his companion asked him softly, removing those fingers to grab more lube.

 

“Yes,” Arthur breathed his answer, feeling momentarily empty but knowing the feeling would not last long.

 

The third finger was somehow easier, Arthur already relaxed and ready to take Eames in. He arched off the mattress slightly though, feet slipping on the sweaty sheets below him as he tried to take Eames in deeper. He could feel the man’s three hot fingers stretching him carefully, coating him in preparation for something that had Arthur’s heart stuttering. Eames tried to lean over him then, pressing up against Arthur’s prostate, but the angle was wrong and the Forger was forced to place a kiss on Arthur’s neck, rather than his lips. “You are so bloody beautiful, darling,” Eames praised against his skin, kissing back down his body.

 

Those three fingers withdrew and Arthur opened his eyes at the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open. His mouth went dry as he watched Eames roll the condom on. Arthur wanted to touch Eames, to feel him without the sheath between them, but reminded himself that it would not be long. Besides, he scoffed at his own impatience, it was having Eames that was important, not _how_. It was all he wanted to feel Eames moving inside him, claiming him, _loving_ him.

 

He tensed when he first felt the blunt pressure of Eames against his entrance, but took a deep breath and met those gorgeous blue eyes. At Arthur’s nod, Eames began guiding himself in slowly, inch by careful inch, until he bottomed out. Arthur groaned as he watched Eames’s eyes glaze over and flutter closed, utterly overtaken by the sudden pleasure. Then his lover grappled at Arthur’s legs, helping him as he hooked them around the man’s hips and locked his ankles together as best he could.

 

“Kiss me,” Arthur demanded, eyes closed again as he fought to commit every touch, every sensation, every breath, every word to memory.

 

And Eames did. Eames’s heavy form covered Arthur again, guarding him from the slight chill in the room. Arthur moaned deep in his chest when the movement pushed Eames a little deeper inside him, burying him enough to rest against his prostate. But he didn’t have much time to contemplate this as the Forger’s lush lips trailed over his again, seeking acceptance and entrance. Eames’s arms framed him as they kissed, forearms denting the mattress and fingers flexed – prepared for movement.

 

Arthur, drowning in the kiss but wanting more, held Eames close with one hand on his back. His nails dug into tanned, tattooed skin, and Eames groaned into his mouth and dropped more weight onto Arthur. The Point Man’s other hand went to good use as it wound up into Eames’s hair, sealing their lips tighter together. When Eames pulled away, Arthur finally blinked his eyes open. He flushed when he realized his lover was watching him, and smiled.

 

And then Eames moved.

 

Arthur let himself go completely, not wanting to suppress or hinder anything. So when Eames pulled out slowly and then slid back in all the way, Arthur allowed his whole body to arch and stretch. “That’s it,” he whispered into Eames’s ear, spurring him on as Arthur bucked up to feel more. It felt wonderful to have the other dream worker moving within him; it felt like completion. “ _Eames_...” he keened, clutching tighter as Eames adopted a slow, relentless pace.

 

“Right here, love,” Eames panted against him, lips and stubble brushing Arthur’s skin and no doubt leaving marks. “’M right here.”

 

As Eames continued to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, suck claiming marks onto the column of his neck, and thrust into him deeply, Arthur did his best to respond in kind. He eventually dropped his legs from Eames’s hips to dig his feet into the sheets, gaining leverage to buck up into each thrust. This caused Eames to drive into him just an extra half inch, but it had them both cursing and seeing stars.

 

The pace turned frantic as Eames found the right angle to press continuously against the bundle of nerves deep inside Arthur. “So...so perfect, love,” Eames was suddenly whispering again, panting now. Their bodies were growing overheated as they pressed and slid against one another, and Arthur gave a choked-off moan as his leaking cock got caught between their two taut stomachs. “Can’t believe you’re...you’re all mine...”

 

“Yes,” Arthur groaned, making sure Eames’s eyes met his before speaking again. “All yours.”

 

Eames thrust his whole body forward to reach Arthur’s lips desperately, burying himself to the hilt. Arthur gasped into that searching mouth. Eames was thick, stretching Arthur and making him feel completely filled. He could also feel that cock twitching inside of him, and, knowing that Eames was close, Arthur clenched down around that hard heat. This time it was Eames who gasped his name into his mouth. “Arthur, I’m not—I can’t...” Eames started to ramble as he began thrusting again.

 

“It’s okay,” Arthur hummed, feeling his body vibrating with building pleasure. “I’ve got you,” he promised, “Let go.”

 

“Ar- _Arthur_ ,” Eames snapped his hips forward a few more times before moaning against Arthur’s neck, moist breath ghosting over his sweaty skin. He could feel it as Eames came, even though the condom withheld the sensation of being filled with the man’s release. Eames thrust in his last time almost violently as his whole body shuddered, and that hot length filling him twitched and pulsed with the Forger’s racing heartbeat.

 

It felt perfect.

 

Arthur didn’t move for a few minutes, knowing Eames would be oversensitive as the man desperately fought to catch his breath. But he couldn’t wait long as his cock continued to drip precome onto his stomach, eagerly awaiting his own completion. He tried to thrust up against Eames’s stomach, searching for friction, but instead his lover pulled away and out. Arthur whined angrily at the disappearance of the other man’s body on and in him, but Eames wasn’t gone long.

 

The other dream worker tied off the condom and threw it into the trash can quickly before sliding his body down the bed. Before Arthur could really comprehend what was about to happen, Eames’s mouth was swallowing him down to the root. His eyes crossed when he felt Eames swallow around him, his cock brushing the back of the man’s throat. After that it didn’t take much. Eames sucked hard as he pulled his mouth away, tongued at his slit, and kissed up his length delicately. “Come on, Arthur,” Eames murmured against his pulsing length. “Come for me,” he whispered before deep-throating him again.

 

Arthur was lost.

 

He called Eames’s name loudly enough to expect a few complaints from his neighbours later in the day, but he didn’t care. His feet dug in, his toes curled, his eyes clenched closed and his fingers twined with the bed sheets. Arthur’s back arched off the mattress to shove himself deeper into Eames’s willing mouth as he came, his lover dutifully swallowing everything he could manage.

 

Arthur collapsed when he was finally spent, his body shaking as it came down from its high. Eames licked him clean and then pulled the blankets back over them. Then his lover crawled up his body and lay down half on top of him. Arthur, limp and sprawled, felt Eames’s left hand reach across his body to clasp Arthur’s right hand, their fingers lacing together. Eames’s chest was pressed against his, and the other man was straddling one of Arthur’s thighs.

 

They would be a sticky mess shortly, but Arthur couldn’t think much on that beyond the thought of shower sex. For now though, he was too exhausted to do much more than breathe. Eames had his face tucked against Arthur’s neck, kissing and licking affectionately; it reminded him of the way Eames had licked him in cat form. At this thought, Arthur used his free hand to begin brushing his fingers through sweaty, matted brown hair. He felt Eames shiver against him and lean into the touch, an undeniable purring noise reverberating in the man’s chest and throat. “Eames...are you purring?” he asked, surprised and amused.

 

His lover didn’t answer for a minute, instead tilting his head into the touch more and humming in delight. “Maybe...”

 

“Are you sure you’ve changed back completely?” Arthur chuckled, still running his fingers through soft locks of hair.

 

Eames used his free right arm to lift himself slightly until he was gazing down at Arthur’s smirking face. Eames smiled in response and leaned down to steal a quick kiss before returning to his previous position. “It’s just what you do to me, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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